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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26753866">after the credits roll</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/owlsshadows/pseuds/owlsshadows'>owlsshadows</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Haikyuu!!</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Detectives, Anal Sex, And they were partners, Dorks in Love, Feelings Realization, Friends With Benefits, Kissing, M/M, Oral Sex, Partners to Lovers, Pining</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 12:34:24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,793</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26753866</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/owlsshadows/pseuds/owlsshadows</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>If theirs was a cop movie, Hajime thinks, it would go down like this: the new cop arrives in town, the local cop reluctantly works together with him. The case becomes personal; the stakes rise along with the tension between the two cops. They fight, then, after a dramatic montage with some epic music in the background, reconcile. Suddenly, one of them remembers something that seemed insignificant before. A clue. The final piece they were missing from the puzzle. They manage to solve the case of serial murders, saving the day. The movie closes with something like a catchphrase, and the two cops walking down the road in the sunset, arms around each other’s shoulders.</p><p>If it was a movie, the credits would have rolled long ago, and the most Hajime would have gotten from Sawamura was a pat on his back. But this is not a movie, life continues after the closing credits, and Hajime finds himself helplessly falling for Sawamura Daichi case after case after case.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Iwaizumi Hajime/Sawamura Daichi</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>84</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>after the credits roll</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/bmmq/gifts">bmmq</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This detective AU belongs to Jimi (@bringmepotato) who was kind enough to commission me.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>This part of Sendai never sleeps and yet Hajime finds Kokubuncho quiet tonight. Apart from the tireless whirring of air conditioner fans and the occasional music filtering out from the shops down the street, the district is calm. He knows it would be naive to think there is no crime happening somewhere but, for now, he is not Detective Iwaizumi, the best homicide detective in town. He is simply a man on his day off, headed in the direction of Jozenji-dori, glancing at the map on his phone from time to time. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He is on his way to enjoy a drink with a colleague. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A partner. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A friend… of sorts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hajime has a difficult time putting a tag on his relationship with Sawamura Daichi. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he first joined the Homicide Unit, Hajime had greeted him with a little hesitance – someone transferring from a big city like Tokyo could mean many things: he could have been removed from the capital for behavioral issues, incompetence, or some internal conflict with his fellow colleagues. Sawamura, however, quickly proved that all his worries were for nothing. His brain worked fast, his deduction skills and gut feeling leading them to the perpetrator one case after the other. By the time Hajime got to know that Sawamura was originally from Miyagi and that he had requested his own transfer in order to catch the arsonist who killed his parents, Hajime was long over his initial doubts about him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hajime has never clicked with any of his previous partners as easily as he did with Sawamura, and sometimes he has to remind himself that Sawamura joined the Sendai Police Department only a few months ago; he feels like they have known each other forever. They became friends easily, almost instantly – being around Sawamura has always felt easy and natural.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was to celebrate solving their first case together that Hajime had first invited Sawamura out for drinks, but soon the honor of selecting the venue had been transferred onto Sawamura; for he could not believe that Hajime would really go to the same place all the time – the one just down the road from the police building, convenient, if nothing else – and for Sawamura turned out to be a real connoisseur when it came to local bars. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The place he had picked for tonight is a tiny, barely decorated izakaya hidden in a small alleyway just by the main road: Hajime would probably miss it if he was walking down the street without the help of his phone. As he walks closer, the delicious smell of freshly made food reaches his nose and his stomach gives out a grumble.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He smiles, thinking about how before he met Sawamura, he barely cared for what and when he ate. It was during the long hours of stake-outs they spent together that Sawamura’s kind but persistent goading finally got to him and Hajime gave in, re-discovering the wonders of food.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As he enters the izakaya – which, according to Sawamura, has some rare liquor and great yakitori – he glances around in search of his partner. He finds Sawamura at a small table tucked away in a corner, studying the drinks menu with the same intensity he reads forensic reports.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good evening, partner,” he greets Sawamura, sinking down on the chair by his side.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did you manage to finish with all your paperwork?” Sawamura glances up from his menu card with a mischievous glint in his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good to see you too,” Hajime grumbles in reply. He knows what is about to come is another Sawamura lecture on life management.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Look, you won’t have to work on your day off if you do your paperwork as it comes instead of waiting for it to pile up like that...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, right,” Hajime hushes him, taking the drink menu from his hand. “Which one’s that rare liquor you mentioned?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I hope you know I’m saying this because I hate waiting on you when we’d promised to go out for drinks,” Sawamura adds. His unwavering gaze, like some magic spell, cast a knot in Hajime’s throat. “I already had a beer but this is the one I really wanted to try,” he continues with a sigh, and he reaches out to point at a drink towards the bottom of the page. As he leans close, his hand grazes Hajime’s arm, his breath tickles Hajime’s neck, and Hajime’s breath hitches.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He has a difficult time putting a tag on this relationship. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There is a difference between colleagues who arrive to work day-by-day, saying hello in the morning and goodbye after working hours, and between partners who have spent long hours crumpled together in a tiny surveillance car following criminals and who have shared shampoo – and cheap hotel rooms – during difficult stake-outs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Their closeness comes naturally.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It is dangerous.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sometimes, their accidental touch lingers, and Hajime’s skin lights on fire.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Some days, he finds himself sneaking out from Sawamura’s apartment in the hours of dawn.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let’s order a bottle,” Hajime blurts out a comment quickly before a sigh could escape his lips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sounds good,” Sawamura hums.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hajime watches as he stands and walks to the counter to order. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His eyes linger on Sawamura’s broad shoulders and over the dent of his nape. His glance slips down along Sawamura’s spine slowly, taking in how the material of Sawamura’s shirt embraces his torso. When he reaches Sawamura’s hips, his heart rate picks up like that of a blushing schoolgirl or a first-time pickpocket caught red-handed, and he casts his eyes away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hajime has no fears facing knives or bullets but Sawamura Daichi makes him feel like a coward. With his gaze trained at a particularly disinteresting part of the entirely uniform and purely white ceiling – and noting it must have been painted recently – Iwaizumi Hajime curses quietly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sawamura makes him question whether he has ever been in love before.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hajime stifles a sigh and collects himself just in time as Sawamura returns to their table with two glasses in one hand and a tray of gyoza in the other. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“See anything interesting?” Sawamura asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Huh?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ve been glaring at the ceiling for a while. What was it? A spider?” Sawamura raises his brows. “A cockroach!?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, no!” Hajime replies quickly and he watches Sawamura pull a bottle of sake out from under his arm like some magic trick, opening it, filling their glasses. “My mind was somewhere else.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I see,” Sawamura raises his glass. “To that somewhere else?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“To closing this last case,” Hajime says instead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sawamura searches his face but clinks their glasses together without digging any further. “To the case,” he says, eyes never leaving Hajime’s face. The message comes across clearly: Sawamura knows Hajime is not telling him something but he is willing to wait for Hajime to open up once he is ready.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hajime downs his drink and lets Sawamura pour him another. For a short while, neither of them speaks; Hajime empties his second glass while Sawamura stuffs his cheeks with gyoza. They order some chicken and they continue their dinner without saying much: complimenting the food, offering to pour another glass for the other; small talk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The izakaya around them grows livelier as a group of office workers enter. Chairs screeching, glasses clinking, pieces of indistinct chatter fills the air.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sawamura pours out the last two shots for them, placing the empty bottle further away from them on the table. “You know, I’ve been thinking of going to Tokyo next weekend,” he says then. “My cousin, the baseball player, has a big match coming up and he sent me an invite. I might get some good seats,” he winks at Hajime.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you bragging? You’re bragging now,” Hajime says, wrinkling his nose. “You know I like baseball and you want to rub it in my face that Sawamura Eijun’s your cousin.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Actually,” Sawamura says in a half-laugh, rubbing the back of his neck, “I was thinking about inviting you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There it is. That ease. That natural flow of how things happen that always takes Hajime by surprise. Sawamura woos him effortlessly; there is never anything forced in his tone or manner. He casually moves closer, just how he casually held Hajime's hand for the first time as he pulled Hajime through a nighttime Sendai all those weeks ago, or how natural it felt to kiss him, as if there was nothing else Hajime could do on the day they got caught in the rain and took shelter under the roof of a small shop. Sawamura always seems to move without hesitation, and Hajime feels he fumbles after this man, always a few steps behind, unsure just how far Sawamura will take him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They have stepped over the boundaries of being just colleagues long ago, and Hajime feels they are probing the framework of friendship with every stolen glance or lingering touch. Sometimes, when he slips his socks back on, sitting on the edge of Sawamura’s bed to sneak out before sunrise, he catches himself longing for more closure, more intimacy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If theirs was a cop movie, Hajime thinks, it would go down like this: the new cop arrives in town, the local cop has doubts but works together with the new cop. The real reason why the new cop asked his transfer comes to light: his parents were killed by an arsonist, and the perpetrator might be the same person who they are after this time. The case becomes personal; the stakes rise along with the tension between the two cops. They get misled by a red herring, the new cop gets into danger, they fight, and the local cop rage quits and decides to walk home no matter how far it is from the location of their stake-out. There is some dramatic music, a montage plays of the two cops’ feelings and all their moments together. The camera shows the smile of the new cop as the local cop remembers it; they have a heartfelt scene making up, and then, suddenly, one of them remembers something that seemed insignificant before. A clue. The final piece they were missing from the puzzle. They look at each other, realization brightening up their faces, and they jump back into work. With the help of the new clue, they manage to narrow down the list of suspects significantly. The final deduction is based on the gut feeling of the new cop: it is a risky game they decide to play, but the local cop is on board with it. They catch the culprit mid-action, preventing another fire. They are the heroes of the day. Finally, the movie closes with something like a catchphrase, and the two cops walking down the road in the sunset, arms around each other’s shoulders.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hajime reaches out for Sawamura’s hand to hold it, brushes his thumb over the burnt patches peeking out from under Sawamura’s shirt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can I take this as a yes?” Sawamura smiles at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If it was a movie, the credits would have rolled long ago, and the most Hajime would have gotten from Sawamura was a pat on his back. But this is not a movie, life continues after the closing credits, and Hajime finds himself helplessly falling for Sawamura Daichi case after case after case.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, sure,” Hajime replies absent-mindedly. “I wouldn’t miss a chance of a free baseball game.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thought so,” Sawamura says with a soft chuckle. “Where my weakness is food, yours would absolutely be sports.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So you admit you were aiming for my weakness with that invitation?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hn,” Sawamura hums. “I probably would’ve invited you even if I didn’t know you liked baseball,” he continues, looking at his hand in Hajime’s. “I don’t like going to the city alone, I get dragged into all kinds of shenanigans.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh really?” Hajime asks, raising a brow. “By whom?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Those loud Tokyo folks,” Sawamura replies.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sawamura’s old team, Hajime thinks immediately, and his heart sinks a little. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sawamura seldom mentions Bokuto or Kuroo apart from when someone asks him about his days back in Tokyo but he always talks about them with such a fond expression on his face it makes Hajime’s insides churn and he finds it hard not to jump to conclusions. Sawamura sleeps with him, after all. So what is the guarantee that he did not sleep with either of those guys back in Tokyo?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hajime does not think he has the right to be jealous – they are not lovers, after all, Sawamura and him – and yet he cannot help himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your mind really is somewhere else, huh?” he hears.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sawamura smiles at him softly when Hajime looks up from his empty glass and he brushes his thumb across Hajime’s face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s on your mind?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s nothing,” Hajime replies, waving Sawamura’s hand away. “I’m fine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You seem out of it. Do you want to leave?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just… have a lot on my mind.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I noticed,” Sawamura chuckles, patting him on the back. “Come on. Let’s go for a walk, get some fresh air.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hajime lets himself be dragged out of the izakaya. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He knows the moment they leave the place and Sawamura takes a turn left that they are not heading towards the station – he knows what that means – and he follows Sawamura without a word.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As they leave Kokubuncho for a more suburban neighborhood of town, Hajime looks at the stars blinking faintly on the endless black canvas of the sky. He can see the white puffs of his own breath in the chill autumn air – his sigh forms an almost decent cloud.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hajime bites into the fresh air, contemplating his choices.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He fell for Sawamura but he has never been sure of Sawamura’s feelings. Sawamura’s casual tone, his effortless attitude, that natural flow Hajime finds himself going along with time and time again; they all feel… temporary. A kiss in an opportune moment, a touch when no one sees, a whisper at the front door, goodbye murmured instead of goodnight after sex…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>On the other hand, Sawamura, good-natured, humorous, genuine Sawamura would not play with him. He would not buy him drinks if he did not like him, let alone invite him to spend a weekend with him in Tokyo.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They are basically dating, Hajime thinks and the sudden realization halts his steps.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So?” Sawamura asks when he notices Hajime stopped, glancing back over his shoulder, “what is this all about?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I,” Hajime starts, but speaking feels as if he has stood at the starting line of a race through rough terrain in terrible, thick fog: he is ready to take off, but he has no idea where he is headed to. He does not know if he reads too much into the situation or the contrary, he is slow on the uptake and Sawamura has been wooing him properly all along. He has so many questions and no answers, but he is pretty positive that whichever is true, he is overthinking it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You,” Sawamura nods after a while, turning with his whole body in Hajime’s direction.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>God, he’s beautiful,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Hajime thinks. It is the very same thought, in the very same tone he has had back when they were working on their first case together. Back in that tiny rental Toyota, they used to tail the prime suspect of that series of arsons, when Sawamura confided in him and admitted that he was hunting down the man who killed his parents, the lines between partners and friends and confidants and lovers have been smeared all over as if they were mere drawings in the sand of the beach.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Hajime has been helpless ever since, charmed by this man who has never been afraid to show his vulnerable side to the world but still face everything head-on, with a smile on his face no less.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think I might just be the biggest idiot in the entire world,” Hajime says casting his gaze down, glancing between his hands, clasped tight together, and Sawamura’s shoes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My impression of you is not that of an idiot,” Sawamura says softly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hajime swallows thickly, eyes fixed on the tips of Sawamura’s shoes, unable to look up. His heart pounds loudly in his ears, his palms get sticky with sweat but his throat goes dry. “I need clarity,” he says. “I’m tired of… not knowing whatever this is,” his finger waves vaguely at the distance between Sawamura and himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So it is because of me,” Sawamura says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It is me,” Hajime shrugs. “I can’t hold you responsible for my own cowardice.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hn,” Sawamura hums. His shoes step closer, into the cover of Hajime’s hands. Hajime feels forced to raise his head, fix his stare at the uppermost button of Sawamura’s shirt instead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry,” Sawamura says then. “I was afraid that grand gestures or a confession would trouble you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Trouble me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who’s the coward now?” Sawamura smiles. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And that smile Hajime can see because he has raised his head the moment Sawamura spoke the words ‘gestures’ and ‘confession’. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Damn you, Sawamura,” he says fondly before he leans forward and covers Sawamura’s smile with his own. The kiss is soft, almost cautious. Sawamura reaches for the side of Hajime’s face, cupping it, angling his head for better access to his lips. And he kisses back, sweet and gentle, long and lingering. It is as if they are kissing for the first time, and all those kisses they shared before, desperate and hungry, were just part of the fight they fought to get here. As if before, their kisses were a prelude to lust, and now they turn into something else. Something more. Truly intimate.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So,” Sawamura says finally as they part for air, “can I take it that we’re partners who are also </span>
  <em>
    <span>partners</span>
  </em>
  <span> now?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dork,” Hajime laughs out of breath.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You totally ruined the mood.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did I?” Sawamura teases, pulling Hajime close for another kiss. “Sorry, I can’t contain my happiness well.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Hajime breathes against Sawamura’s open mouth. “Me neither.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The walk to Sawamura’s apartment is a blur. Hajime is too elated to clearly remember any detail apart from the warmth of Sawamura’s hand and the sweetness of his tongue. He has been confused, contemplating, and hesitating for so long – and Sawamura is not wrong: his awkward little pun proved to be the levity Hajime needed to finally let go of his doubts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They are partners. In work. And in life now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hajime smiles into their kiss and messes Sawamura’s hair up with both hands, making it hard for Sawamura to locate his keys and unlock the main door. They all but stumble into the apartment, keys landing on the floor by their discarded shoes. Sawamura does not even bother turning the lights on and Hajime does not complain: there is something eerie yet intimate in the dim light of the streetlamps shining through the open curtains. Sawamura pulls Hajime straight to the bedroom, where his futon lies undone, blankets crumpled up and tossed to one side.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hajime trails a hand over Sawamura’s chest, fingers sliding between the buttons of his shirt, short nails digging at his warm skin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Say,” he asks, “how do you feel about this shirt?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t want to rip my clothes,” Sawamura replies casually but with an undertone that sends thrills down Hajime’s spine.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yessir,” he says and he starts unbuttoning Sawamura’s shirt diligently. For every button undone, and every inch of skin exposed, he stops for a short, fond peck, a chaste nibble. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hajime feels as if he is dreaming. They have done this before, but it had never meant so much. Rather, they had sex before. This time they are making love.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He nips at Sawamura’s collarbone, tasting his neck in a long lick, finally returning to his lips. Sawamura kisses him deeply, hands around his waist, and Hajime sinks into the feeling. He pulls Sawamura closer, so impossibly close if they were more malleable they could blend into each other.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sawamura,” Hajime murmurs against his partner’s neck, burying his nose in Sawamura’s short, soft locks. “You smell so good.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on,” Sawamura chuckles. “We both smell like sake.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hn,” Hajime sniffs Sawamura’s collar, his neck, behind his ear. “That too. Good smell too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, Iwaizumi,” Sawamura places a hand on Hajime’s chest, stopping him in his ministrations.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Call me Daichi.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hn,” Hajime agrees absent-mindedly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let me hear it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Daichi,” he murmurs, biting down on Sawamura’s shoulder blade. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Daichi’s. </span>
  </em>
  <span>He bites down on Daichi’s shoulder blade, just hard enough to sting.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cannibal,” Daichi laughs, teasing a trail of teeth along Hajime’s earlobe in retaliation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The name’s Hajime,” Hajime corrects him, hiding his wicked grin in the hollow of Daichi’s collarbone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure, sure,” Daichi replies. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It really is,” Hajime says, turning Daichi around, helping his shirt down his back and off his arms. As Daichi throws his shirt in the corner of the room, Hajime marvels at the bared expanse of skin, the taut muscles flexing under scarred, burnt skin. “You’re beautiful,” he breathes, fingers tracing the edges of the scars down Daichi’s ribs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hn,” Daichi hums. “You’re prettier.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hajime leans his head against Daichi’s nape, nose nuzzling the bumps of his spine. Slowly, with the attention of a forensic scientist investigating evidence, Hajime’s lips trail down. He litters kisses from the top of Daichi’s back to the scars over his scapula to the edge of the burnt skin over his ribs, and back to his spine again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s no competition,” Hajime murmurs, and his arms snake around Daichi’s torso, hands busy with the buckle of Daichi’s belt, the zipper of his pants. As his kisses trail down to the dip of Daichi’s lower back, he falls to one knee, pushing Daichi’s pants and underwear down in one go. With his hands on Daichi’s hips, he leans his head back, away from the perfect, round butt that just came into view. “Turn,” he says, and he is surprised how raspy and desperate his voice sounds.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Daichi reaches for Hajime’s hands and peels them off his hips. He steps out of his pants, kicking them away, and turns to face Hajime. His cock has gone to fully hard since their initial makeout session, a much welcome sight in Hajime’s eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hajime licks his lips, sending a glance up at Daichi before he leans forward and brushes the head of Daichi’s cock with his tongue. The reaction is instantaneous, Daichi’s whole body jolts as if a current ran through him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hajime,” he hears his name, whispered into the dimly lit room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hn,” Hajime asks, taking Daichi’s cock fully into his mouth, pumping at the base with one hand while holding onto Daichi’s hip with the other. He licks and sucks Daichi, mesmerized by the sounds his ministrations draw from his partner’s lips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t,” Daichi says through gritted teeth, grabbing a fistful of Hajime’s hair, pulling at it. “Damn it, Hajime, I’m going to come.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hajime hums around Daichi’s cock, swallowing him deeper, chasing a faster pace to draw out newer, louder noises. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Daichi holds on to Hajime’s shoulder, his vice grip growing exponentially stronger the closer Hajime drives him to completion. With his free hand, he seeks support in the door frame behind him, nails digging into the wood as his tension builds and builds, driving him over the edge. He comes with a shaky grunt, and he stumbles back against the door frame with a heaving chest, glazed eyes falling on Hajime.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hajime holds onto his hips and leans his forehead against Daichi’s thick, muscular thigh while he catches his own breath. Soon he feels Daichi’s fingers in his hair, combing his hair backwards.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think you broke me,” Daichi says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I doubt that’s possible,” Hajime croaks in reply.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Daichi uses the door frame for leverage to slide down to Hajime’s eye level, and Hajime pulls him by his neck for an open-mouthed kiss. Daichi tries to speak, he really does, breaking away from the kiss once, twice, but Hajime chases after his lips fervently each and every time. So Daichi, instead of speaking, uses his physique to his advantage, and pushes Hajime back onto the futon, straddling him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh,” Hajime breathes as he lands with surprise in his voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is what you get for stalling,” Daichi says, laughs, as if he was just scolding Hajime about paperwork, reaching for the hem of Hajime’s polo shirt and pulling it over his head, casting it to the side. He lifts his weight off Hajime only for a second to help him out of his pants, hovering over Hajime, shuffling stuff around somewhere above his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A chapstick rolls off the nightstand, hitting Hajime on the forehead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” he complains, reaching out with a hand to pull Daichi back to him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Whoops, my bad,” Daichi replies unusually impatiently. “Catch.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hajime barely reacts in time to catch the bottle of lube Daichi drops in his hands. The lid pops open with a satisfying sound, filling the space between them with the sweet scent of melons. He squeezes a generous amount on his fingers, but he nearly drops the bottle when Daichi descends back on him, grinding against his erect cock deliciously.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ho-holy shit,” Hajime stutters. “Wait a minute, would you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Daichi dares to laugh at him. They lie naked on Daichi’s futon, in his rental apartment that smells like fresh laundry and sex and melon-scented lube, and Daichi, who is already half-hard again, grinding against Hajime’s painfully hard cock once again while he laughs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If there is a thing like the smell of happiness, Hajime thinks this might be it. Fresh, heavy, sweet, and infuriating. And theirs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hajime feels ambitious, drunk on happiness. He raises up on his left elbow, capturing Daichi’s laugh between his lips, while his right reaches for Daichi’s entrance, rubbing circles around it with fingers slick with lube.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Daichi hums approvingly, deepening their kiss and wiggling into a better position. Soon, Hajime feels a warm, wide hand around his cock, rolling a condom on it and coating it with lube with the same precision and effectiveness as his own fingers work away at Daichi’s hole.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Daichi breaks away from their kiss just so he can whisper “I’m ready,” in Hajime’s ear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hajime does not need any further urging; he lines up with Daichi and pushes in, lifting his hips away from the futon. Daichi chases him down, meeting him halfway in one perfect move. They stay there for a second, suspended in time, as if they were figurines on the end of invisible strings pulled by the players above, deities, gods, and the like.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then, after what feels like an infinity and some more, Hajime pulls back, flat against the futon. Daichi follows him, chases him, rides him. They find their rhythm quickly, as they have always found common ground in anything like they had known each other forever. Daichi is warm and tight and welcoming and perfect in all ways possible, and Hajime loses his fight to keep his voice down, letting out a deep, guttural moan.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They come in unison and the world deafens around Hajime for a second. There is no sound but for the heartbeat under his palm, planted strongly on Daichi’s chest, and the blood rushing in his own veins, echoing it. Then the second is over, and Daichi collapses on him, burying his head in the hollow of Hajime’s neck.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The wall clock in Daichi’s living-kitchen ticks away. They lazily move, clean up, and crawl back in bed, pulling the blanket over their naked bodies. Hajime means to say something, something important they have not put into words yet, even if they are in silent agreement, but sleep steals him away before he could find the right wording.</span>
</p><p> </p><p><br/>
*****</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sunday finds Hajime slowly opening his eyes, sprawled across the futon horizontally. Daichi sleeps across and over him, one leg hooked into his knee and head on his chest. Hajime takes his time digesting everything that happened the day before. He replays their conversations in his head, smiling at Daichi’s dumb joke. He watches his partner sleep, face calm and innocent, features soft and carefree, and he lets out a sigh, happy rather than troubled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Daichi wakes up not long after, mumbling something incoherent sleepily. Hajime laughs at him fondly, secretly sad when Daichi decides to untangle himself from Hajime, then happy when Daichi crawls up beside him to face him instead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looks into those warm, brown eyes that he feels he could never get bored of. “Good morning, partner,” he greets Daichi, reaching out to caress his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Morning to you too,” Daichi replies, leaning into the touch.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hn,” Daichi nods, turning his face so he can reach Hajime’s hand, pressing a kiss on his fingers. “Me too.”</span>
</p><p><br/>
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</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Just a few things:<br/>- Kokubuncho is Sendai’s nightlife/entertainment quarter<br/>- Sawamura Eijun is the main character of Daiya no Ace/Ace of Diamond, a baseball manga/anime<br/>- I sincerely apologize for the partners but also partners joke but I must admit that my hands were itching to write it down :3</p><p>You can find me on twitter @owlsshadows if you want to shout in my face.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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